


Where We Begin

by poisonparty



Series: love notes [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Kid Fic, M/M, Pre-Castiel/Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-15 05:50:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16927638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poisonparty/pseuds/poisonparty
Summary: There's an angel in the yard next door.





	Where We Begin

**Author's Note:**

> first fic i'm posting in a long time, enjoy! :)

Dean is minding his own business, playing with the awesome new Hot Wheels toys Mom bought him yesterday when she took him back to school shopping. He especially likes the shiny black one, it looks kind of like Dad’s car, which is his favorite car in the whole world and nothing will ever change his mind. Dad’s car is loud like a tiger, so he makes loud _vroom_ noises while he makes the car go round and round the plastic track. The car is just about to make its final jump and win the race against the ghost car when something out the window catches his eye. There’s movement outside, in front of that kinda spooky house that’s been empty for as long as he can remember, even if Mom swears that the Petersons lived next door when he was born. That doesn’t matter.

 

What does matter, Dean decides, is the angel in the front yard. It matters enough for him to abandon his toys and go find Mom. He can smell apples and cinnamon, so she’s probably in the kitchen.

 

“Mom!” Dean yells, and she shushes him because she’s on the phone. Sometimes he really hates the phone. Mom is awesome, and be wants her attention _now_. “Mom, it’s really really important!”

 

“We’re not talking about this now,” Mom says quietly into the phone. She must be talking to Dad. He’s been gone for at least a week, but Mom has been smiling more, so it’s okay. It _is_. “I’ll call you back later.” Mom takes a long breath before turning to Dean with her special Mom smile. “What’s going on, Dean?”

 

“There’s an angel next door,” he informs her, his voice steady and serious. “It looks just like those little ones you put in Sammy’s room.”

 

Even just saying Sammy’s name makes him a little sad, because he’s been staying with Grandma Deanna while Dad’s been gone. Mom takes him over to visit most days, though. He saw Sammy this morning, and Mom will take him again tomorrow, and the day after that and after that until school starts. Which is soon, he thinks.

 

“Well why don’t we go see what’s going on?” Mom says.

 

Mom has the best ideas.

 

She leads Dean outside, and the sun is too bright but right there--there’s the angel! “Mom, there!” he shouts, and points.

 

“It’s rude to point, Dean,” she says for the zillionth time, but she still follows his little chubby finger. The angel looks like a boy around Dean’s age, chubby red cheeks and giant blue eyes. Dean wonders where his wings are.

 

“Where are your wings?” Dean yells across the yard, and the angel jerks it’s head up. Only then does Dean notice the other people in the yard, and the big truck, and the car caked in mud. There’s a teenage boy with dark hair, and an adult who’s probably as old as Dad, because he also has those silver hairs that Dad does.

 

The angel runs in the wrong direction, though, towards the older boy and not towards Dean, and grabs onto one of his legs. Dean can hear him talking quietly to the angel, and while Dean stares, Mom pulls him over to the other adult.

 

“Hello,” Mom says, “I’m Mary Winchester and this is my son, Dean. Are you just moving in?”

 

Dean tunes them out to stare some more, wondering how he can get the angel to talk to him, and if the angel would like to play with him, maybe the angel likes Hot Wheels too, because even though they haven’t actually met yet, Dean would share his new toys, he definitely would, even the shiny black one--

 

“Dean,” Mom says sternly. “Mr. Novak asked you a question.”

 

“Sorry,” he says. He’s not really sorry.

 

“Would you like to meet Castiel?” Mr. Novak asks. He looks kind of messy, and his hair is curly and his beard is scruffy but his eyes look like nice person eyes behind his glasses.

 

“That’s an angel name!” Dean shouts excitedly. “Mom, did you hear?”

 

Mom laughs her pretty laugh and nods. “Let’s meet him, okay?” Dean nods so hard his head hurts, and Mom and Mr. Novak lead him over to the angel, who’s now being held by the teenage boy, perched on his hip, skinny pale arms wrapped around his neck.

 

“Hi!” Dean yells. The angel peers down at him. His eyes are _so blue_. “I’m Dean!”

 

“I’m Cas,” the angel says quietly. “This is Mikey,” he adds, squeezing the older boy-- _Mikey’s_ \--neck for emphasis. Mikey has blue eyes too, but not the angel. Not like _Cas_.

 

“Can I see your wings?”

 

“Dean,” Mom says a little sternly, “Castiel is a boy, not an angel. He’s almost your age. Would you like to play sometime?”

 

Cas nods and mumbles, “sure,” before tucking his face against Mikey’s neck.

 

“Cassie has had a long day,” Mikey says. He adjusts his hold on Cas, maybe tightens his grip a little, like Cas is something special, something to be protected. He probably is. “Would you like to play tomorrow?”

 

Mom sorts out all the details with Mr. Novak and Mikey, while Dean just stares at Cas, whose head is still tucked up under Mikey’s chin. Castiel. Cassie. Castiel, pretty Castiel. Dean is pretty sure he couldn’t say that name out loud, because sometimes he messes up words with his five-year old mouth, but Mom says most kids do too. Before Dean can say goodbye, Mom is pulling him towards their own house and saying goodbye over her shoulder.

 

“Bye Cas!” Dean shouts. “He’s as pretty as an angel, Mommy!”

 

That night, Dean says goodnight to all his toys and stares out his bedroom window. There’s movement in the house next door, all his new neighbors getting to know their new house and settling in, but Dean can’t be bothered with any of them besides Cas. He tried over and over to say his whole name earlier, but his tongue couldn’t work all the letters right. It doesn’t matter. _Cas_ is just as good. A pretty name for the pretty angel boy, the pretty angel boy Dean gets to hang out with tomorrow. They’re going to be friends, maybe even best friends. Pretty Cas, _Dean’s_ best friend, no one else's.

 

Dean’s never had a hard time making friends, but he’s never had a _best_ friend. He’s loud and (mostly) shares his toys and likes to make people laugh, but he also likes to be quiet and hang around Sammy, who’s still too small to really talk back. But Cas seems like the kind of kid who’s always by themselves, quiet and drawing, or quiet and reading, or just plain quiet and alone. But Dean is determined, there is no way the pretty angel boy won’t be his friend.

 

He can’t wait for tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first part of a verse I'm working on, which will eventually turn pretty dark. feel free to leave comments or kudos if you like!


End file.
